


I Said To Myself Again

by avyssoseleison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Crying Dean, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Making Love, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Slight Self-Feminization, Taking Care Of Dean, sloppy kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/pseuds/avyssoseleison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finally lets himself be appreciated and cared for by his angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Said To Myself Again

**Author's Note:**

> The title stems from Bukowski's Ham on Rye, with the full quote being:  
> "I hated them because they had something I had not yet had, and I said to myself, I said to myself again, someday I will be as happy as any of you, you will see."

With Dean already having come all over the sheets beneath him, he moaned in discomfort at the last of Castiel's merciless thrusts into his body — Castiel had already come yet apparently had a long orgasm to ride out — and clenched around the thick length plunging into him. Castiel groaned, but the slight tinge of pain in his voice told Dean that he finally reached oversensitivity as well. He ceased his hips' movements at last, coming to an end with his body slightly trembling. Dean felt much the same way and gave up on keeping his position, letting his upper body collapse unto the wet sheets. He couldn't give a damn that he was lying in his own spunk when his arms and legs were shaking like crazy. He simply wanted to sleep and rest his sore body, which he could do the moment Castiel was fully done with him and would leave him.

Castiel usually didn't do so, but Dean couldn't help but expect him to just fly off each time they had sex. They never cuddled after, mostly because Dean forbade him to, in fear that Cas would feel obligated to give him more than a roll in the hay, but Castiel usually stayed to talk for a bit, which Dean hoped he wouldn't do today so he could sleep. 

Would probably have been more pleasant for both of them. 

Dean was used to being used, and he only waited for Castiel to see that there was no need for him to stay, that he didn’t have to talk to him, that he just as easily could fuck Dean and then get the hell out of there, because Dean wouldn't fight, would let him. And if he did come back for another fucking, Dean would let him use him and throw him away again. Yeah, at some point, Cas would get that, would see how any civil behavior toward Dean was unnecessary. Dean expected every time to be the time he did.

But instead of just patting Dean on the butt, telling him that it was a nice fuck and then beating a hasty retreat, Castiel gently pulled out of Dean and stroked his heaving sides with his big damp hands. After a moment's consideration, he gathered Dean close to himself and turned him around, onto his back.

Dean blinked up in confusion but didn't protest. Especially not when Castiel began petting his hair, stroking each little strand out of his sweaty face, even when it fell back and effectively made his efforts redundant. He looked down at Dean with eyes so full of endless adoration that Dean wanted to turn away, hide away from the emotions directed at him, so very much like those swelling in his own chest and contradictory to what he believed he was to Castiel. At the same time, he didn't want to flee, because he felt warm and safe and sated and it was actually pretty nice to just lie here, being caressed and looked at like he meant something, was not just something to be fucked and thrown away, no, Dean was looked at like he was something precious. And he liked to be able to direct a gaze akin to the one he received at Castiel, leaning into his touch and nuzzling into his neck.

Castiel smiled, slow and warm, his eyes brightening even more, as if he had finally seen something in Dean's face and his demeanor that he had been waiting for, for however long. He used one of his hands to tilt Dean's chin up, making him a bit more accessible, while his other one still petted and stroked his hair and his face, relentlessly. He pressed a soft kiss against Dean's slack mouth, and another, simple expressions of affection, in such a stark contrast to the hard pounding he had given Dean mere moments before. Dean tried to reciprocate and craned his neck up to catch his lips, and his kisses turned out as open and sloppy as Castiel's.

Castiel leaned even more above Dean, covering his whole body with his own, not letting those warm feelings their fucking usually invoked in Dean — and that, of course, was meant in a purely physical sense — escape. The weight of his body was calming to Dean, because he was so used to being left the moment his partner was done with him and he was so unused to receiving this much attention instead of a simple adios afterwards that he was sure he would have flown off the handle without it. He felt grounded now. Still anchored in reality, despite the impossibility of it all; of being kissed and actually adored by an actual angel, _his_ angel, _Castiel,_ who had seen the worst of him and yet still thought him worthy of those touches, even after he had reached his climax.

Dean could feel the sting in his eyes, but he refused to let those tears spill. The moment he made a quiet, choked sound in the back of his throat, he could feel Castiel's gaze sweep over his face, even with his green eyes hastily pressed closed, and then he felt those lips grazing his slightly damp eyelashes and then kissing his eyelids, ever so tender.

This did nothing to keep Dean from making another choked sound. But he didn't feel ashamed for it this time, because Castiel hummed quietly against his eyelids as if understanding the sentiment Dean himself didn't understand. Dean grasped Castiel's upper arms in fear of losing himself, of being swept away by this flood of feelings at last.

The warmth beneath his palms felt real and steady and unbelievably calming. Dean considered, hoped, that maybe he could believe, just for now. Calm himself, just for that one exhausted moment. So he relaxed himself against the sheets.

And he softly sighed into those kisses being peppered all along the side of his face, to his ears and his neck. They were lazy and spoke of the same bodily exhaustion Dean felt — but they still made the warm ache of arousal stir again, slow and waiting, but nonetheless rising to the surface. He didn't feel like doing anything about it, though, even if he wanted to, simply because his limbs were heavy and it felt way better to just lie there with Cas draped over him and kissing him, than taking back control and actually moving his sluggish body. But he felt like he missed something; maybe just Castiel's lips that were wandering all over his skin, which felt nice, but also meant that they were too far away from Dean's mouth. Any distance that meant that their lips weren't locked was too far.

"Cas," Dean murmured, sounding drugged out of his mind by their fucking and the affection that had followed. Castiel perked up, caught his gaze with curiosity. Dean blushed slightly, but he knew Cas wouldn't judge him and that he simply had to ask for what he wanted, and then he'd be sure to get it. "Kiss me."

Castiel smiled, very obviously pleased with Dean, and descended back onto his lips, in an onslaught of warm breath and the smacking sounds of two mouths joining. He seemed just as happy as Dean to be in this position, to grasp at each other's flesh to get that bit closer to each other and to trade lazy kisses.

Almost like an afterthought – and without putting a halt to their kisses — Castiel took his hand from Dean's chin and stroked the hunter's hips and down to his thigh, following its curve with tender fingers. Upon reaching his knee, he lifted Dean's thigh just so, giving himself just the barest access necessary, and guided his cock, as half-hard as Dean's, back into his body.

There was no resistance, unlike before. Even through the drunken haze of their kisses, Dean could feel Castiel re-entering him, and he also felt how wet and open he still was — just like a girl. Dripping, as if he had a pussy. He assumed that thought should have shamed him, should have made him think less of himself, the manly hunter, and he knew had his father been still alive and known about those thoughts, he would have beaten Dean within an inch of his life and made him feel bad for enjoying this, but in actuality, it was nice; he would have liked for his body to always be so easy to welcome Castiel. To have it open up with some gentle touches, and have its own lubricant to show how willing he was to accept his lover inside. It would have been wonderful if all it took were Castiel's kisses and sweet words to get himself loose and ready, let him slip inside and fill him up like their bodies were made for it. Yeah, in that moment, being hard and aching seemed so unbearably inferior to being soft and dripping.

"You are so good to me, Dean," Castiel whispered against Dean's lips. "So beautiful, you never stop giving." With those words, he pressed even deeper into Dean's body, both of them fully hard again by now, but instead of picking up the frantic thrusts from their first round again, he seemed content to stay where he was, fully sheathed inside Dean, just moving his hips in small circles that pleasantly lit up Dean's body and seemed more meant for the hunter's pleasure than Castiel's.

And it was unfathomable how Castiel could speak of Dean giving when he was just taking; not just in that moment, but all the time. Always taking, taking, taking, greedily and selfishly, just like he had claimed this celestial and perfect being for himself, acted like Cas was his to keep and his to love, belonging to someone as broken and foul as Dean, which was laughable when he thought about it. And think about it he did, especially in the early hours of those nights Castiel couldn't stay with him. He never failed to kiss Dean especially thoroughly before leaving and always whispered endearments against Dean's lips, but those were too kind and too full of love to be believed, even if he wanted to, _so desperately,_ and in the end, caught between believing those words and seeing the truth, he was left restless for the night.

Sometimes it felt like Castiel sensed whenever Dean had not slept and had not trusted his words, and he tended to be even more reverent with him when he came back. Those times, Dean could sometimes believe him to be of worth, but more often not.

Right now, though, he failed to think of anything but his pathetic affection pouring out of him with every time he caught Castiel's lips and moved his own against them. He didn't dare to close his mouth for even a second, always keeping it open and ready to receive whatever Castiel gave to him, and he wanted to give in return, moved his tongue slowly against Castiel's, sighing into their kisses.

He needed this; needed the bodily connection, lacking any urgency or roughness, the way Castiel simply slipped into his open body, knowing that he had been already welcomed there before and would always be welcomed again, while the evidence of their first round of sex that night was helping him make his way inside, making it all the easier and slippier. Yes, they needed this, the primal connection, but how much more did they need the kissing. All those years of not allowing themselves to show their love to another and seeing each other die and hurt with so many things unsaid had taken its toll on them, and now there was nothing but the unhurried and loving soft movements of their mouths against each other. Castiel's cock might have been within Dean, rocking into his sloppy entrance, but their true point of unity was between their lips and their tongues, the soft presses and almost shy licks, with the single purpose of tasting the other, and letting the other taste in kind.

Castiel's rocking picked up a bit, his thrusts becoming a little sharper and possessing more of a purpose, which probably would have been unnoticeable from the outside, but Dean, who had been taking each movement with a soft huff of breath, understood that Castiel was coming close. It became even more evident when one of the hands that had been petting and stroking Dean's body and face snuck between their bodies – that stuck together with sweat and the come from earlier – and took hold of Dean's dick. Dean helplessly exhaled against Castiel's lips, making them curve into a smile. And obviously tempting Castiel to use them for more than kisses and start speaking again, with his voice rough and low.

"It's fine, Dean, we're almost there. I know you're probably exhausted, but we almost did it. You almost did it, again, giving me everything, letting me inside you, letting me bring you pleasure." He pressed his lips deeply against Dean's for a long moment, adding the wet sound of a long kiss to the even wetter sound of him entering Dean's body again and again and to the melody of Dean's little punched-out breaths he simply couldn't keep inside. Castiel's hand was warm and sure around Dean, stroking him in the same slow pace he was rocking into him, but somehow it was enough, Dean was still inevitably climbing towards his climax. It didn't feel like before, not as urgent and nearing itself like a freight train, but it was a steady feeling growing inside his chest and groin. He wanted to come like this, Dean realized. He had come hundreds of times from fucking, and then from sex, but not from making love, because that's what this was. Castiel was always affectionate when he thought Dean needed it, but Dean never allowed his touches to become too gentle, always spurred him on and goaded him into taking him hard and fast, even if they had started out soft. Because he knew that this was what would happen; that he would get caught up entirely, would feel tears welling up in his eyes again and crave that praise Castiel was eager to give but knew not to, unless Dean was too far gone to care, and even then, that praise had to be completely of sexual nature.

Not now, though. Now he had to hear Castiel's voice and he had to know if Castiel really enjoyed what they were doing, if he really thought that Dean was good. Worthy of his attention. Because he wanted to believe.

"Cas…" he breathed out, unable to voice his yearning. Somehow, Castiel still understood.

"I'm right here, Dean. With you, inside you." He swept his tongue over Dean's bottom lip and let his hand stroke Dean just that bit faster. "I will still be with you when we both reached our climax. But first, I want you to come, Dean. You deserve to feel that pleasure, deserve to be held afterwards. You are so gorgeous, Dean. So perfect and beautiful." He gazed at Dean through his half-lidded eyes, and his thrusts became even quicker, just like his strokes. "You deserve every good thing in this world and in every else, all the love I could — _ah_ —  possibly give you. My sweet Dean, my perfect Dean. Always so good and open and — _oh_ —  so wet, _fuck, Dean, you're so wet_ , because you already let me in and now again, just like that, let me in again, and _ah…_ " His thrust were actually fast now, growing erratic, and he was desperately trying to kiss Dean's lips, but he had difficulty meeting them, so he instead pressed his open mouth against any part of Dean's face he could catch. "And I need you to come for me, Dean, please. I love you, please come, _Dean, oh,_ Dean. _Dean!_ "

Dean clutched at Castiel's arms, holding him close to himself as he felt ecstasy overcome him, filling him the same way he could feel Castiel fill him, stuttering warm and deep into his body and his soul, and Dean helplessly thrusted his hips against Castiel's cock, riding out the orgasm spilling between their bodies that were so tightly pressed against each other, moaning and crying out, feeling nothing but Castiel driving into him and kissing him and holding him.

When they both finally came down from their highs, they were still locked at their lips and hips, with the same slow motions as before, both their eyes shining. Castiel stroked his now-wet hand against Dean's cheekbones and whispered praise and declarations of love against every inch of Dean's damp skin and his wet lips, and for once, Dean believed those words, believed him.

 


End file.
